


Rest Your Arms and Rest Your Legs

by mustachio



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Box forts, Fluff, M/M, Polyamory, Sleepy Cuddles, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-06
Updated: 2014-03-06
Packaged: 2018-01-14 18:07:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1275919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mustachio/pseuds/mustachio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Why throw out your empty boxes when you can find new uses for them?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rest Your Arms and Rest Your Legs

There are many things that Cecil does not know.

In the grand scheme of things, the number of things Cecil does not know out weight the number of things he does know. He doesn’t know how to stop remembering the things he isn’t supposed to remember and he hasn’t quite figured out how to plan a successful coup d’état when the one you’re trying to overthrow is a multi-billion dollar company who has almost succeeding in buying the entirety of the city.

Cecil does know, however, that when he asked Earl and Carlos to start getting rid of the boxes scattered throughout the house while he was at work he did not mean for them to go out and get _more_ boxes to pile into the living room. This he knows without a shadow of a doubt.

A half-filled box slides across the floor when Cecil pushes the door open more fully to actually get inside the house. He eyes it warily. ‘CARLOS’S SCIENCE STUFF’ is scrawled across the top of it in big, black letters and the things poking out from the opening look more like clothes than scientific equipment which Cecil is pretty sure is all in the basement already, anyway. He picks up the box and brings it over to the giant pile of boxes against the wall and sets it down with them. If the boxes have to be here, at least they can all be in one place. Most of the boxes in this pile are tipped over, contents spilling out onto the floor. It looks like they were probably stacked up at one point.

“Earl?” No response. “Carlos?” Again, no response.

He frowns a little, half because of the lack of response, half because the coffee table, like the boxes, has been tipped over with everything that was on top of it now taking up a spot on the floor. Cecil sighs and fixes the table so that it’s standing on its legs again. The table grows warm under his touch in thanks and he pats it affectionately. What in the world were those two doing in here and where are they now? He sets his bag down on the upright table and moves into the kitchen. The kitchen is mostly box free with a few exceptions here and there and the faint smell of food lingers around the area. Earl and Carlos must have eaten before doing… whatever it was they were (and possibly still are) doing. 

Cecil sets his bag down on the counter, takes note of the glass figurines that used to be in the dining room set aside on one of the shelves. It’s nice that Earl and Carlos had the courtesy to make sure they didn’t break any of that stuff, but he would have liked it better if they’d had the courtesy to do what they said they were going to do and clean up the boxes. The last thing he wanted to come home to was an even bigger mess than there was when he left. Honestly, they’ve been living in this house for two weeks now. There really shouldn’t be this many boxes left when they’ve mostly got all of their stuff unpacked. It’s not like Cecil was expecting to have all of the boxes gone by the time he got home. They work during the day. It wouldn’t be right of him to expect every single box to be cleared out. But did they really have to make the house look like a warzone?

The answer to that question is apparently yes. Cecil moves into the dining room and his eyes go wide at the sight of it. The table in here is knocked over the same way the coffee table in the living room had been, two of Carlos’s non-lethal laser guns sitting behind it. The table is positioned in front of another large pile of boxes, except this pile isn’t knocked over at all. This pile actually seems to be built into a box fortress, very closely resembling the blanket fortresses Cecil and Earl had learned to make back in their early Scout days. It’s mediocre at best; clearly made in a rush, but functional if they were only seeking protection from glorified laser pointers.

Two curtains hang as doors at the front of the entrance. He has to get on his hands and need to fit in the small doorway, but in the end it’s worth it when Cecil finds his boyfriends lying on a bed of pillows and sheets, cuddled together, and half asleep. Or at least Carlos is half asleep. Earl seems to be completely out, curled up in Carlos’s chest, not reacting to Cecil coming in at all. Carlos has an arm wrapped around Earl almost protectively, but he turns his head slightly and gives Cecil a small, exhausted smile. Both of them are naked from the waist up and he Cecil suspects that if the blanket covering them were to come off, they’d be waked from the waist down, too.

“Hi. Welcome home.” Carlos’s words are slurred with sleep and said so quietly Cecil only barely understands them.

“Hi. How was your day?”

Cecil crawls up behind Earl, shifting until he’s in a position nearly identical to Carlos’s. Earl sighs in his sleep, moves over to get closer to Cecil, moves back to be closer to Carlos, and wakes up when he can’t find a good balance of both. He lifts his head, looking up at Cecil with bleary eyes, and an expression that clearly says he isn’t fully processing what he’s looking at yet. Cecil presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth, Earl drops his head back onto the pillow, and Carlos watches them with that same sleepy smile he’s had since Cecil came into the box fort.

“You’re home,” Earl blinks a few times to try and wake himself up, but each time it takes longer for his eyes to open again. In the end he gives up, decides to keep his eyes closed. “Have you eaten?”

If Carlos’s words were only barely understandable, Earl’s are completely unintelligible. Cecil shakes his head. He doubts Earl would understand him if he tried to answer with words, anyway.

“No, but food can wait until we’ve rested a bit.” Cecil drops his head down to Earl’s shoulder. Exhaustion and sleepiness hang heavy in the air and seep into Cecil’s bones. 

“Sorry we didn’t clean up the boxes,” Carlos reaches across Earl to run his fingers through Cecil’s hair. “We found the laser guns. Earl wanted to play and we accidentally knocked the Faceless Old Woman’s fort over so she threw our mattress on the roof.”

The more Carlos talks, the less Cecil can understand him. By the end, Carlos has dropped his head back onto the pillow, too, and his hand has fallen still on Cecil’s head. Cecil moves it so that Carlos’s arm is still stretched across Earl, but wrapped around Cecil’s waist as well.

“That’s okay,” He whispers to his two sleepy boyfriends. Neither can probably hear him at this point, but he continues. “It can wait until later.”

**Author's Note:**

> So technically I probably shouldn't be posting this until after I've gotten to the cecearlos part of the main fic, but I'm impatient and I've been having a rough few weeks so I decided to post it now any way because I'm desperate for cute poly cuddles. Not as happy with the end result as I'd like, but it's okay for now.


End file.
